


Somewhere to Look Forward To

by untropicalisland



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untropicalisland/pseuds/untropicalisland
Summary: Essek receives Jester's message as he considers his options
Relationships: The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Somewhere to Look Forward To

Whenever the cold bit too hard, or the light on a rare sunny day blinded him he would take a deep breath and remind himself that he had volunteered.

Essek was not religious and had little use for penance, and whatever weakened, flailing sense he had in its place would not count service in Eiselcross to be any sort of repayment for his misdeeds. This had been a much more typical choice for him: coldly (ha!) pragmatic. With active conflict no longer at the forefront the Lens would expand its monitoring of the Cerberus Assembly, and at least for a time he would rather be as difficult to reach as possible while he considered next steps.   
So when he was given a choice (he would never praise the Luxon, but he would whisper a silent thanks to the convenient beliefs of its followers) he took it. It wasn’t the first time Shadowhand Thelyss had picked a thankless job, and none of the Dynasty needed to know his motivation had never been dedication, but self-preservation. Covering his most regretted tracks.

It was certainly considered a little strange, but not very; in addition to a reputation for liking terrible jobs he was sure he would need to spend a century or two to lose (if he ever could stop picking those jobs; if he remained alive and safe and part of the Bright Queen's court), Essek had his reputation as a prodigious wizard, and once-in-a-generation was no faint praise among elves. Aeor was a place of magic; send in the mage. And with the Dynasty back in the position of wary truce, the recruitment efforts needed to be supplemented with, if not a search for Aeorian items, at least the oh-so-subtle prevention of the Empire from successfully obtaining any of their own.

Of course, he hoped to find those items, study the magic, see if it could be made compatible with or even be grafted into dunamis, but for now he had to be content to send out expeditions for items that would perhaps never be used, just be locked away to prevent more harm.

The parallels between himself and the Aeorian artifacts were not lost on Essek, but it had stopped being funny almost immediately if it ever had been. He had felt relieved for a few days, then surprised at how easy it had been, then guilty, and then guilty and bored out of his mind.

Perhaps boredom was better, he thought, as he sipped his tea - austere, brought to the outpost more for providing an excuse to consume hot water in the arctic than for taste - and slumped down in his chair. Perhaps he’d go to Bazzoxan like his father and brother had next, though he doubted he could stay away from Rosohna that long. And then there was that quiet whisper in the back of his mind that always called, telling him to run away before anyone found out and while he was young enough for it to be brushed off as an eccentricity - perhaps he could pretend he’d fallen in love, or wished to see the world - instead of a reason for suspicion. 

He did not like the Coast much. At least the northern Empire, where he would meet contacts, was typically overcast rather than the lurid, relentless sunshine he had seen in his few trips to Nicodranas. He ran over the world in his head sometimes, looking for where he could run. Marquet was even sunnier. Issylra's largest city forbade arcane magic and the rest was as wild and colder than the marshes of his own country. Uthodurn would be comfortable but too close - there would certainly be spies or else he would be seen as one; the various blighted and cursed regions of northeastern Wildemount would be both close and deadly. Tal’Dorei was a possibility to look into, unless he wished to explore other planes, but for now Eiselcross seemed the best option. And that was perhaps the most depressing idea, and he slumped down further.

Jester's message cut through the evening like the wind outside, but far more welcoming. Surprising, he supposed; he had not heard from her nor any of the Mighty Nein in a few weeks. Not since he stood on the deck of their ship during the peace talks.

He’d been disguised because he was not tasked to be there and by all means should not have been; he’d had to beg off his duties for the day (not a difficult task; he had barely been able to focus long enough to meditate since the Mighty Nein had discovered him and claiming light illness and a need for a few days of rest and quiet seemed all too believable to anyone who came to his door). But that had also meant that, as he stood on the deck, he had a mask behind which he could feel safe.

That excuse was gone, and he would have to look the Mighty Nein in the eye, and hope they still felt the same way they had on their boat. For that alone he felt he could not call in any debts for his teleportation; and besides, what good would it do for him here?

Veth, in her restored form, had welcomed him that night, and he had understood as they stood, dressed in Concordian evening wear and on the opposite side of the continent, that the Mighty Nein was its own home. That the mansion in Rosohna merely housed it, that the boat they were on was just one incarnation.

He smiled as he thought of that coming to him even here in the arctic, and, that briefly, if he showed he had been trying, he might one day feel as though Exandria had another place he could be safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure Essek's at full redemption arc stage yet but he almost certainly is at the "oh I should get out of town" stage, which, you know, is part of it


End file.
